


Domestic disputes

by forgotheparable



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Married Couple, Prompt Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:49:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3612300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgotheparable/pseuds/forgotheparable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of ficlets centered around the domestic lives of Piccolo and Chichi, if they were married.</p><p>DBZ AU. Multichapter. Rating will likely change as chapters are added.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Going shopping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PickleandtheQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PickleandtheQueen/gifts).



> This was a prompt generated by [http://rpgens.tumblr.com/miniscenario].
> 
> Chichi and Piccolo get separated in a place that's easy to get lost in. They need to reunite.
> 
> Mature warning is for chapter 2. The rest is rated T for swearing and slight innuendo.

Piccolo hated shopping.

He hated everything about it, whether it was in the comfort of the Son household or amongst the bustling crowds of the mall. Clothes, groceries, furniture or books – it was all the same to him. Scanning item after item; price checking and comparing; as well as having to refer to some half-assed list when he could barely _read_ was an absolute nightmare – and if there were people there, then the entire experience was even worse. Trying to navigate throughout the shopping centre was like trying to wade through a waist high swamp, except the swamp was composed of people; people who gave him peculiar looks and talked far too much for his liking.

It was hell.

Speaking of hell, it was during that particular ordeal that Piccolo wished he was still the feared demon, Ma Junior. Oh, how fun that would be – to scare these stupid civilians out of their wits, to send them scattering with a manic laugh and energy blast. His lips curved at the very thought. It would be wonderful, and he would certainly do it if it wouldn’t elicit Chichi’s wrath.

Where _was_ Chichi? She had been at his side just a moment ago, or so it seemed. Piccolo growled; did she wander off again? She had a habit of wandering wherever it pleased her, then getting irritated when he failed to follow after her. Like a puppy. He could let his pride be insulted, but he was more concerned with whether she had noticed or not. He supposed she probably would’ve by now. It was difficult _not_ to notice a surly, seven foot tall green alien walking alongside you.

He had to find her – firstly because he hated this place and wanted to help her get whatever she needed so they could leave sooner, and secondly because Chichi could turn a mere frying pan into a deadly weapon. Piccolo didn’t fancy his chances, even if he was one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy.

As Piccolo was a surly, seven foot tall green alien, it wasn’t easy for him to blend into a crowd. It was normally irritating, for he didn’t enjoy the stares or the directed whispers, but it was useful when someone needed to find _him._ It wouldn’t be long until Chichi found him. Whether that was a good or bad thing, Piccolo wasn’t sure of yet. It all depended on her reaction.

He flinched as a loud, cheery song trilled from his pocket. It was that damn cellphone Chichi had given him – for situations just like this. Growling lowly, Piccolo scrabbled for it in his gi pocket, shooting a flustered glare at onlookers.

“Wh- Damn thing, shut up already!”

“ _Excuse me?!”_

“Not you,” Piccolo snapped, before he remembered who he was talking to. His eyes closed as he inhaled, taking a deep breath. “Not you, the phone.”

“ _That better be the case, Mister!”_

Great, Piccolo groaned inwardly, palming his face. He had annoyed her, before he even had a chance to ask where she was. “Where are you?”

“ _I could ask the same of you! Didn’t you hear me when I said I was going into Wilson’s for a card for Daddy’s birthday? You weren’t listening, were you?!”_

He bit back the snarky response that rose into his mouth. That would only exacerbate the situation. “I was _trying_ to listen, but there’s too many people here. So I can’t listen to _your_ crap if I have to listen to all _their_ crap at the same time.”

She spluttered. “ _I don’t talk- oh you!”_

Piccolo smirked as he heard his wife trying to compose herself on the other side.

_“You’ll need to come find me. Come meet me outside ‘Secrets’. You know where that is?”_

“Hmm…” the namekian’s voice lowered, a slight purr softening it “that’s that place you got that nice outfit from, right?”

“ _Yes – but that’s got nothing to do with anything!”_

He could practically _feel_ her fluster over the phone. “Sure,” he said smugly.

“ _The only thing I would be getting out of **there,**_ ” she retorted, haughtily “ _would be a collar. Because you’re obviously not capable of staying by my side without one!_ ”

“I think I might enjoy that,” Piccolo snickered.

“ _Bastard!”_ She hung up.

Piccolo threw his head back, laughing, ignoring the strange looks he was receiving as he made his way to his mad and _marvellous_ little mistress.


	2. terror turn-eth the demon on-eth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Piccolo realizing that he desperately wants to bite Chichi but being afraid to ask and trying to figure out how to bring up the subject of sinking those massive canines into her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: Sexual themes, mentions of rough sex, descriptions of biting and blood kinks. Nothing overly explicit, all extremely enthusiastically consensual.

Piccolo was a lot of things, and what he was depended on who you asked. Most people would say he was an alien, for instance. Almost everyone agreed that he was tall, which was a pretty obvious observation. His comrades would perhaps describe him as a strong, silent warrior, and a brilliant tactician to boot. He _was_ the only one in the Z-Fighters, aside from Gohan, that actually _thought_ before using his fists. A good handful of the people he associated with would call him an asshole – some in jest, others not so much. Gohan would refer to him as his best friend, and sometimes ‘Dad’ by accident.

(He really quite liked being called that.)

What the others had never expected him to be was a being capable of experiencing sexual attraction. Whether that was because they thought him biologically _incapable_ of it or simply that he was disgusted by the concept was beyond him. It was likely a combination of both. Really, he didn’t find it to be very surprising that they had thought that, even if it had perturbed him slightly. After all, he had never expressed any interest in the act of courting, seduction, or even sex itself, and he had never truly felt it. Not before Chichi, at least.

And even then, even when they both began to wade into the unknown territory of their budding relationship, he hadn’t truly understood what it was all about. He hadn’t felt it, then, despite the fact he had thought Chichi _pretty_ – more than pretty.

It didn’t take long for those particular desires to creep up on him, but they didn’t all come at once. Once of the first things he had become acutely aware of was how he felt when she was angered. It was ironic, really, considering he wouldn’t _dare_ touch the little woman when she was in a bad mood, but he had noticed how his heart accelerated when her eyes narrowed; how her hips swayed when she stalked around; as well as how the tension between them during confrontation would cause certain _reactions_ in parts of his body that her anger had never elicited before.

Perhaps he was just turned on by danger. Perhaps he was _insane_. Either way, it made see her in a different way – or rather, he simply _saw_ things he hadn’t seen before. He saw the way her eyes gleamed when he cleaned the house without being asked. He noticed how her clothes accentuated her figure, how they clung to each curve of her body. He saw how delicate her skin was, despite her superhuman strength; how easily pierced it was, how it reacted to the lightest of touches. He saw how vivid her blood was, next to the pale rosiness of her skin, and he _hungered._

It was only after Dende had explained how namekians sexually reproduced that it dawned on him precisely _why_ he was so fascinated with her soft flesh, and the warmth that ran through her veins. He literally wanted to reproduce with her. His body, overwhelmed by hormones, craved a child, and the baser part of his brain was practically _screaming_ for her DNA so he could produce one with _her._ And the easiest way to do that would be to bite her. That was the _entire_ point of them having canines.

It was a rational explanation, and he could probably, maybe just manage to explain that to her if it wasn’t for the fact that he felt the desire to bite her _all the time._ It wasn’t limited to his heats, to the periods of time he ovulated, and was thus capable of conception – it extended beyond that. It was a constant desire, almost an instinct, which took it beyond biology and into the realm of _kink._ Damn it. Damn it all, he couldn’t bring himself to say he _wanted_ to bite her. Just how the hell would she react? He literally had no idea. So far, they had partaken in, as Bulma quoted, ‘vanilla sex’. Which to her, meant boring sex. Piccolo was not bored in the slightest – how could one find screwing a feisty little spitfire such as Chichi to be _boring_ – and on the kitchen worktop, no less.

No, he was perfectly content with the intimate aspect of their marriage; but that only intensified his desire to sink his teeth into her warm, soft throat. Not her jugular – he wasn’t stupid, but perhaps the slope where her neck and shoulder met. Yes, he thought, licking his lips absentmindedly. That would be _very_ nice indeed.

But how would he bring it up to her?

"Chichi."

The mother turned her head to look at him. Her face was a little red from the steam billowing from the sink, as she washed the dishes. In other words, she looked right at home.

A little smile curved her lips. "Yes?"

He tried to look casual, but the muscles in his throat shifted as he swallowed. "What...er, what is your opinion on...”

Goddammit. Why would he ever think that bringing this subject up would be a good idea? She’d probably throw something at him and call him a pervert. Or maybe she would just think he was joking. “…Vampires?”

Chichi blinked. “Vampires?” She was obviously taken aback – and why wouldn’t she be? She probably didn’t even think Piccolo knew vampires were a thing in the _first_ place. “I…um…well, I quite liked the novel _Dracula_ , but aside from that I…” she shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I know a lot of movies are out about them right now, but I’m not convinced. Why?”

He thought about telling her that Gohan had been talking about them, but he didn’t want the conversation to turn into one of family. Piccolo cleared his throat. “I was just curious.” His voice was calm, steady as always, but his eyes flicked to his wife’s throat.

Her pulse. He could see it, the soft skin flickering, almost hypnotic…

“You’re never _just_ curious, Piccolo.” She was giving him a rather odd look, but she was smiling at the same time. “Come on, ‘fess up. Do you want to go see one of those new movies out?” Chichi giggled, pulling her gloves off. “I won’t tell anyone, I _promise._ ”

Piccolo groaned. “ _No_ , woman.” He brought a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Forget it. I’m going to go and-”

“No, no,” she crooned, and just _when_ did she get that close? Chichi grinned up at her husband, expression almost _mischievous_ , however innocently so. “You’ve gotten _me_ all curious now. And you know I won’t drop this until you tell me _why_ you’re suddenly interested in my opinion of Dracula and co.”

He gave her a tired look, knowing full well that she meant it.

“ _Fine._ ” Piccolo sighed heavily, palming his face. Great, now she had him cornered, with no means of escape. Well, he could fly away to the wastelands, but that would only make her annoyed _and_ agitated over his newfound interest. “What do you think of them. Their biting.”

Her smile dissipated as her expression changed to one of surprise yet again. “I…um…well, apparently it was rather erotic in Dracula, more of a ravishment sort of thing, which makes sense really…”

“Oh?” Good, the conversation was going in the direction he wanted. “How so?”

“Well,” Chichi giggled “you _know._ Biting is pretty…” she lowered her voice “primal. It’s quite animalistic. Like scratching. It’s something you would only do if you were kind of…really in the moment. A bit rough. Impassioned.”

“Hmm…” The namekian let his hands drop to his wife’s waist. “And how would _you_ feel about that?”

Brown eyes widened. “Well – I – hey! Did you bring up vampires to get to _this – oh!”_

Piccolo shrugged. “ _You’re_ the one who brought up the adult aspect of it all,” he said, innocently, but his eyes were gleaming.

“Oh _you._ ” Chichi tittered, hiding her face in his gi top. Her voice was muffled as she spoke again. “Well…how do I feel about what? Us being… _rough_?”

“Hmm.” He stroked her back.

“I suppose I have…thought about it. But you’re so strong – I thought you would freak out if I asked you, because I _know_ you’re worried about hurting me, sometimes.”

She was right, of course. “True. But…” His fingers trickled up to her chin, tilting her face up to look at his. “What about starting out…with _you_.”

“With me?” Her cheeks were pink, and the colour deepened as she realised the implications of what he had just proposed. “Oh…oh…well, now.” Her fingers stroked little patterns into his shirt. “I suppose that wouldn’t be too bad. You _are_ a big strong alien warrior, and I’m just a teeny tiny little Chinese housewife.”

Piccolo snorted, lightly flicking her ear. “Don’t give me that crap. We both know fine well that I’m downright _terrified_ of you when you’re pissed off.”

“And you’re turned on by it?” Chichi asked, eyes gleaming.

The former demon flashed a wicked grin. “ _Absolutely._ ”

“Well, I suppose there’s only one thing to do.” She turned on her heel, tugging Piccolo behind her. “We need to try this new _kink_ of yours. After all, you know I’ll try anything once. Well, _almost_ anything.” Chichi turned and pointed her finger at the namekian. “Don’t get any funny ideas, Bucko.”

He was too busy thinking of how satisfying it would be if she allowed him to sink his fangs into her flesh. “And what if I do?”

“Then I’ll have to _punish_ you,” she retorted.

“Divine punishment indeed,” Piccolo snickered, as he was dragged up the stairs.


	3. birthday

“Hey, Piccolo.”

That was the fourth time she had addressed him. Piccolo grunted, slipping deeper under the warm sanctity of the duvet. He had given her the non-verbal go ahead to speak, but it was apparent that was not good enough. No, what Chichi wanted was Piccolo’s full, undivided attention, at _half seven in the damn morning._

So naturally, he wasn’t prepared to give her it without a fight. And by god, would Chichi give him one.

“Will you _look_ at me for crying out loud?” she snapped, her little hands gripping the namekian’s shoulder and giving him a hard shake. “I need you to _look_ at me, Piccolo.”

“Why?” Piccolo groaned, not moving from his very cosy and very warm position. “I can hear you just fine from here, _believe me._ ”

She gave a huff. “It’s not about listening; I know you can hear me. How couldn’t you, with those ears?”

That elicited an indignant noise from the warrior. “Maybe it’s just because your mouth is so damn _big._ ”

“That’s not- ooh, will you just _look at me already?!”_

With great reluctance, Piccolo poked his head from out the top of the covers. His wife was sitting upright, face bare and hair scraped back into a straggly bun. Her lips formed a tight frown, and her arms were crossed. Piccolo sighed; just _what_ could she possibly be so worked up about when it hadn’t even gone eight yet? “ _Yes_ , dear?”

She pointedly ignored the sarcasm in his voice. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Forgot?” He blinked, rattling his mind for any significant cues. Nothing. “Forgot what?”

Chichi’s face was turning red. “My _birthday_ , that’s what!”

Oh, _that_. Piccolo rolled his eyes, and slid back underneath the blankets.

“Hey what do you - now you just _wait a minute, Mister!_ ”

“Will you cut it out?!” Piccolo growled, rolling away from her as she attempted to pull the sheets from his body. “For the love of all that’s sane, _no!_ I did not forget!”

Silence. He could practically _hear_ her confusion. “But-”

“The boys are gone. I sent them away to your father’s last night, so we could have a few hours together,” Piccolo groused.

 _More_ silence. Then, he felt her crawling in beside him again, her nose touching his back. “Oh,” Chichi said, quietly.

“’Oh’ indeed. Now _go back to sleep_.” Piccolo’s jaw stretched in a yawn. “I booked us all somewhere later on, but for now let’s just… _not_ do anything.”

It sounded like a wonderful idea, at first – send the boys away, have a quiet morning with his wife, and then have an intimate celebration with the family by going out for dinner. It was perfect. It was the best damn thing he had ever thought of, besides marrying her, but now he was beginning to wonder why he had even bothered in the first place.

“… _You_ booked it?” Chichi spoke again, sounding incredulous.

“Yes,” Piccolo growled, flushing as his wife giggled into his back. “ _I_ booked it. Even came up with the damn idea too – oh _piss_ off!”

“I-I’m sorry,” Chichi laughed, her hilarity only intensifying as her disgruntled husband turned to glower at her. “Oh don’t look at me like that! I just wouldn’t – hadn’t expected it.” Her arms coiled around his neck, and she smiled even as he scowled. “Don’t make a face. I think that was really sweet of you. Truly.”

“You mean you didn’t think I would do such a thing?” he retorted. Piccolo huffed, trying to wriggle out of her grasp. “Go away.”

“No.”

“I want a divorce,” he insisted, even as his hands slid around her waist. Chichi sighed contentedly, nuzzling his chest.

“You couldn’t live without me,” she said, dreamily, and Piccolo only grumbled because it was _true_ , goddammit.

“I should have stayed a demon and just killed you all. Then I wouldn’t have to put up with your _shit._ ”

“I’m sorry, alright?” Chichi reached up, cupping Piccolo’s strong jaw with her hands, tilting his head down so he looked at her. “I’m just so used to…” she sighed. “Goku _never_ remembered. Half the time he wasn’t even _here_. And this is my first birthday being married to you…”

Piccolo rolled his eyes derisively, but pulled her close. “Funny how all your neuroses stem back to _him_ , huh?”

“I never said they didn’t,” she pointed out, and Piccolo snorted.

They laid there for a while, quiet. And then Piccolo said “Well I knew it was important to you, so I made a point of remembering. Besides,” he added, flashing the mother a smirk “you would skin me alive if I didn’t.”

“Damn right I would,” she crooned, shimmying back underneath the covers. “So what are we doing this morning, then?”

“I dunno,” Piccolo sighed and gave his wife a kiss, eyes lidding. “Let’s _sleep_ on it.”


	4. Her fairytale

The house was quiet, too quiet. Normally there would be someone in the kitchen, raiding the pantry; there would be an argument in the background over whose turn it is to watch TV, with Piccolo yelling all the while at them to _shut the hell up_ ; and then there would be Suri’s music blaring from his room, reverberating throughout the entire house (he was going through a phase, Chichi said.)

But there was nothing of the sort that morning, and it struck Chichi as odd how quiet the house actually _was_ in the absence of her husband and children. Gohan was at university, Goten and Suri were at their respective schools, and Piccolo had taken Viola out for the day. So that left her home, alone.

At first, she rejoiced. Having four kids, all of which were at least 50% alien as well as a surly and socially inept _alien_ husband made it difficult for Chichi to get some, if any time alone. She couldn’t even do her housework without one of them badgering her for a soda, for a cuddle, to help sort out an argument (Piccolo) or for some other duty she had as a mother. Which she loved, truly, about 98% of the time, but she occasionally wished she could take a bath without one of her precious darlings bursting in.

Chichi did what came naturally to her as soon as everybody left the house – she cleaned. Every room in the house was swept, mopped, polished and vacuumed to perfection. Stray toys were tidied away, the laundry was organised, and appliances were pulled out and cleaned under; for she seldom gained such an opportunity to clean undisturbed, short of kicking her husband and children out the house to do so.

Next, she reorganised the contents of her panty, fridge and freezer. Tins were stored alphabetically and the vegetable drawer was sorted by colour. She went into her children’s wardrobes and tidied up their wardrobes so that the clothes were arranged by type and occasion. Then she went into her _own_ wardrobe and took out the pre-Goten pregnancy wear she had hoarded for so long and cut them up into neat piles of dusters. After that, she made up kits for the homeless, complete with non-perishables, travel soaps and shampoos, toothbrushes and various other sanitary products.

By the time she had done absolutely _everything_ on her to-do list, it had just gone twelve. Piccolo and Viola wouldn’t be back for at least two hours, so she had plenty of time to herself still…

Padding into the office, Chichi settled herself in front of her computer. There were commissions she could be getting on with, but those weren’t due for another few weeks; and it _had_ been a while since she drew for her own leisure…

Grinning, Chichi booted up the station and began to do so.

The first thing she drew was a dragon – a magnificent, proud creature posed upon the top of a castle. No one had twigged her penchant for fantasy except Piccolo (“You always did remind me of a dragon…and a _witch_ on your bad days”), so what she posted was never attributed as being Chichi’s work by her friends and family. That allowed her to be a little more…creative. Images of gratuitous gore and greed flowed from her pen, illustrations of the Seven Deadly Sins and what she imagined Sayian culture to be _really_ like.

This took her back to her family, her half-saiyan darlings who didn’t have a violent bone in either of their bodies. Oh, they could inflict it, sure, but it was almost always for good reason. Neither of them possessed the partiality for fighting as their father did – not even Goten, who was simply competitive about anything and everything, especially when it came to Trunks.

Chichi had always wondered, however privately, if that was the reason Goku never stuck around for too long. Was it because of that? Was fighting so intrinsic to Saiyans that it was a part of the very bonding between parent and child?

Vegeta had inferred as much, but then again Vegeta seemed very close to his children, fighter and non-fighter. For all his faults, that was the one trait she wished Goku possessed – oh, he loved the boys to death, but he just wasn’t as…attached, as she hoped he’d become. Realising that he never would was the defining point where Chichi knew that their relationship would never work out.

She looked at the monitor. It was covered with doodles of her two eldest, with Goku. Goku was hugging them, playing with them, spending time with them – a thing she had seen before, but somehow it didn’t feel right looking at it now. Goku wasn’t that figure to Gohan anymore, and he had never been it to Goten.

 _He may be their father,_ she thought, leaning forward on one hand _but he has never **been** a father to them. Not really._

That role belonged to Piccolo, Chichi thought with a rueful smile. No matter what anyone else said otherwise, Chichi _knew_ that Piccolo was their dad, whether they called him it or not.

She began to draw him, her husband, and their children – him conversing with Gohan, him training Goten; him carrying a sleeping Suri and him attending one of Viola’s tea parties. Yes, Chichi thought, gazing upon the screen with satisfaction. Piccolo was their daddy.

The front door clicked.

“ _Honey I’m home_ ,” Piccolo drawled, his voice echoing from the hall. Chichi smiled, hearing the rustle of bags and how Piccolo’s walk was ever so slightly slower than usual, no doubt weighed down by goods. _Someone’s been using the credit card._

“Hey,” Chichi poked her head out the study, and indeed Piccolo was weighed down by multiple bags. A smile pulled at her lips when she saw most of them were from toy stores and boutiques. “Busy day?”

“Sure was,” Piccolo rolled his eyes, sighing as Chichi assisted him into the kitchen with the goods. “I learned today that our youngest offspring has expensive tastes.” He raised a brow and glanced behind him. “ _Isn’t that right?_ ”

Behind him was a large stuffed bunny, possible the fluffiest Chichi had ever seen. It came trundling towards her, and Chichi had to bite her lip to stifle the giggle as she saw the chubby little arms holding it up.

“Did you make Daddy buy lots of presents for you?” Chichi crooned, taking the gargantuan rabbit and setting it upon the table before scooping Viola up into her arms. She really was the prettiest little thing, all lilac eyes and soft, shiny hair.

Viola stuck a thumb in her mouth and nodded.

“Good girl!”

“You won’t be saying that once you see the bill.” Piccolo grimaced.

“Ah, I forgive you.” Chichi said good-naturedly, bounced the toddler in her arms. “How could you say no to this face?”

“I couldn’t,” Piccolo quipped, smirking. “Just like when you asked me to stick around after Goten was born. I’m a sucker for the eyes.”

Chichi giggled and went to her husband on the cheek, who saw a window and promptly adjusted so she met his lips instead. “Oh you!” Chichi swatted his arm, lightly. “Behave!”

“You married a demon,” Piccolo shrugged, reaching out and taking Viola back. He kissed her forehead, tenderly. “Hear that? Daddy’s a demon, and _Mommy_ is the scary witch who keeps him under lock and key,” he whispered.

Chichi was about to hit her husband again when he said “and _you_ are the beautiful princess who can free Daddy and turn Mommy into a kind-hearted Queen and save the world.”

“I _am_ a Queen,” Chichi retorted, but she was smiling. She couldn’t believe that this was Piccolo, the grouchy, grumpy green alien who had once tried to kill her fiancé, but somehow it was. _Who’d have thought, huh?_

“Yeah,” Piccolo snickered “the _Evil_ Queen who poisons young maidens with spiked apples and bathes in their blood.

“ _Oh you-!”_ Chichi hissed, eyes narrowing slightly. “You better watch your back, buddy boy, otherwise _this_ Evil Queen is going to turn you into a frog.”

“Hmm.” Piccolo’s garnet eyes were soft, gleaming with mirth and something else as they settled upon her face. “How would you break that spell?” he murmured, leaning in. “With true love’s kiss?”

Chichi’s heart skipped a beat. “ _Perhaps_.”

“Then I guess I’m screwed,” he said casually, smirking and leaning in. “Because the only one I could ever love is _you_.”


	5. Easter bunny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piccolo dresses up as the Easter Bunny for Suri, his and Chichi's firstborn.
> 
> Suri is a labour of love, created by myself and Shirepower.

“Remind me why I agreed to do this?”

Chichi sighed, leaning on the wall as she listened to Piccolo’s grumbles from the other side of the door. “Because, it’s Suri’s first Easter and you promised him you would.”

She could hear his growl increase in volume, reverberating through the wall. “Only because that _moron_ dropped him and I panicked!”

“That moron you refer to has a name, and his name is Goku,” Chichi drawled, closing her eyes and smiling. “Please refer to him as such. Gohan might hear you one of these days.”

Piccolo harrumphed. “Gohan would _agree_ with me.”

“That may be true, but it’s not very nice. You don’t hear _me_ talking about _your_ father like that, do you? And I was fairly certain that he _ate_ children, as well as dropped them.”

“He most certainly did not!” Piccolo barked, eliciting a stifled giggle from Chichi. At last, the door swung open, and there stood a large, fluffy bunny – and a very grumpy one, at that.

“Well,” Chichi pursed her lips, trying and failing to hide her amusement as Piccolo waddled out of the room “I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Piccolo rolled his eyes, sighing. “Let’s just get this over wi- put that camera away, Woman!” he snapped.

“Oh please!” Chichi whined, biting her lower lip and giving him a pleading expression. “We don’t have any family photos for easter, and I’ve got all the other holidays in!”

“Do you now?” the namekian growled, struggling to remain calm as his wife snapped photographs with glee. He crossed his arms. “I don’t remember saying you could take them _then_ either.”

“When do I ever listen to you anyway?”

“I suppose,” he grumbled, frowning and raising a hand – paw – to knead his temples. “Now can we _please_ get this over with before Gohan inadvertently shows up.” Then, his eyes widened with a look akin to horror. “Don’t tell me you _told_ him?!”

 Chichi laughed. “Oh goodness, no,” she tittered, putting the camera away. “I’ll have enough trouble trying to contain Suri when he sees you.” She smiled. “You look cute.”

“Shut up.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” she giggled, pushing the reluctant warrior down the hallway, to the livingroom. “Suri,” she chimed, voice soft as honey, as warm as a bell. “Look who Mommy found!”

Suri was sitting in the middle of the room, sucking on a wooden block. Honestly, what was it with kids and putting things in their mouths? Perhaps Suri was just hungry, although, he was _always_ hungry. The kid was growing chubbier and chubbier with each day, it seemed. He looked like a miniature green sumo wrestler, Piccolo thought, his lips quirking.

“Wah?” The toddler looked up and around, too-large amber eyes taking in the sight before him. They widened even further, and the block fell from his mouth. **“ _Bunny!”_**

“Yeeep,” Piccolo sighed, giving his excited wife a _look_ before kneeling down and spreading his fluffy, pink arms. He was _not_ going to hop.

It seemed like only seconds after he did so that Suri ended up against his chest, having scrabbled to his feet and _bolted_ over to him. Piccolo actually flinched at the child’s speed, fretting for a moment that he would end up falling and hurting himself. “Suri, don’t run like that.”

“How ‘dus Eastah’ bunny know my _name?!_ ” Suri squealed, nestling against the fleece of the bunny suit. “Is yous’ _magic?_ ”

“Sure am,” Piccolo smirked, cuddling the child close. Dammit, he wasn’t regretting this one bit. _Damn it._ “Wanna see a magic trick?”

Suri squealed as Piccolo pulled a painted egg from behind his ear. “Coo!”

Then, he squinted. “Mistah’ Bunny, yous looks a lot like ma Papa.”

“Well,” Piccolo began, standing up with Suri in his arms. “That’s because your father is so _handsome_ that I wanted to make myself look like him to impress you.”

Suri looked doubtful, but he nodded slowly. “Okies,” he said “jus’ dun’ kiss my Mama. Papa will gets annoyed and blast ya.”

“Will he now?” Piccolo asked, through stifled laughter.

“Yes. In fact, he punched Mistah’ G-Goka once cuz’ he kissed Mama under the mistletoes las’ Chrismaz. An’ it wasn’t the kinda kiss Papa gives Mama!”

“Well, I think that’s reasonable. I heard Mr. Goku is pretty dumb, so perhaps your Papa was just doing him a favour by trying to knock some sense into-”

“ ** _Ahem!_** ”

“Sorry,” he muttered, clearing his own throat and coming back into character. “Anyway, Suri, can you guess what _I_ have for you?”

The way his son’s eyes widened made his heart melt. “Wah is it?!”

Piccolo grinned. “Chocolate.”

Suri’s answering scream spoke volumes of his excitement. The boy bounced vigorously in his arms, so much so that Piccolo held him tighter for fear of dropping him. “Where?! _Where?!_ ”

“They’re chocolate eggs, hidden around the house.” He grinned. “If you get all twelve then I’ll give you an _extra special_ treat.”

No matter how many he met or how long he spent with them, Piccolo would never tire of the look of astonished amazement a child would give towards the simplest of joys. It was wonderful.

He set Suri down, who immediately set off on his chubby little legs. “Wheee!”

Piccolo straightened, sighing. Thank the _dragonballs_ that was over.

“Did you lock all the cupboards?” Chichi turned to her husband.

“Yes dear.”

“So there’s no cleaning stuff or things that could hurt him left out?”

“No dear.”

“Are you _sure?_ ”

“Three bags full dear.”

“Oh - oh you!” Chichi swatted the former demon’s arm, who was already laughing. As he watched her leave, he began to wonder what his past self would think if he could see him now. _Probably think I’ve gone insane._

Piccolo grinned. He supposed he was, in a way. He was madly in love, after all.


	6. Father's day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chichi helps her youngest daughter, Viola, pick a present for Piccolo for Father’s day.

“Viola, sweetheart, it’s 5:00pm and the shops will be shutting soon.”

Chichi bounced her youngest lightly in her arms. A smile curved her lips as she watched the four year old’s brow crinkle in deliberation over what present to get Piccolo for Father’s day.

“What about this one, huh?” She reached out and picked up a mug which read ‘Dad, thanks for the awesome DNA!’ Chichi pursed her lips as her daughter shook her head, dark bangs brushing against her arm with the movement. “Okay.”

In truth, Chichi was more than happy to spend as long as Viola wanted in the gift shop, but time was of the essence and Father’s day was but a day away. It wasn’t a last minute thing – they had been visiting the mall week after week, but Viola hadn’t managed to make a decision on what to get her beloved father for the occasion.  A smile quirked Chichi’s lips; Viola was just like her in that way, a perfectionist.

A sales assistant approached them, a young woman with a friendly demeanour. “Can I help you?”

“Oh,” Chichi turned to greet the other with a polite nod. “Well, I would normally say no but we’ve been in here for the better part of an hour,” the mother laughed somewhat sheepishly, her grip on Viola tightening ever so slightly, protectively. It wasn’t that Chichi was distrusting, but people had a tendency to pass comment on Viola’s unique appearance, as if she invited them to on virtue of existing. “Father’s day, you know?”

“Ah.” The girl nodding knowingly. “A lot of people have trouble trying to pick out the right gift. May I ask who will be giving it?” She inclined her head to one side, smile widening as she gazed at Viola. “This little princess here?”

Viola stared at the sales assistant with a mixture of wariness and curiosity.

Chichi laughed. “Yes,” she said, tucking a few strands of hair behind one of Viola’s ears. “She’s worried about picking the perfect present,  _aren’t_ you baby?”

The toddler hesitated before nodding.

“Well,” the other woman clasped her hands together “you know that we do custom gifts, right? Or rather, we  _customise_ certain gifs with text, photographs and the like. Would you be interested in anything like that – we do mugs, keychains, shirts, that sort of thing!”

Now it was Chichi’s turn to stare at her. She could feel Viola squirming in her arms, and when she looked down her daughter was clearly approving of the idea.

“Would you be able to use pictures from my smartphone?”

“Certainly!” The assistant smiled before gesturing. “Right this way.”

“Right.” Chichi whipped out her phone with a flourish, handing it to her child. “Pick a photo, baby…yeah… _yeah_ I like that one…”

-

_“Honey I’m home!”_

The sardonic drawl was from none other than her husband. He entered the kitchen with a dozing Suri in one hand and a multitude of shopping bags in the other.  Chichi’s lips quirked. “Busy day?”

“Yeah,” Piccolo grunted, setting down the shopping and bringing Suri closer to his chest. She could see his smile forming as the child snuffled and shifted within his arms. “Good though.”

“What did you guys get up to?” Chichi knew fine well what her eldest sons had planned out for him but she wanted to hear Piccolo’s version nonetheless.

“I think the better question is what we  _didn’t_ get up to,” Piccolo muttered, rolling his eyes. He sighed, sitting down at the kitchen table. “Gohan wanted to go out for lunch, so there was that. The boys, Suri included, ate out half the damn restaurant within half an hour.” He snickered. “The head chef had to send out for more stock.”

“Ohhh!” Chichi gasped, shaking her head as she stirred the pot of stew on the stove. “Those boys! They should’ve had something before they left, how  _embarrassing._ ”

Piccolo gave a dismissive wave. “Nah, we probably paid them enough in that sitting to make up their profits for a week. And the staff were tipped nicely.”

“Oh well, I suppose that’s good,” Chichi said, humming as she moved around the kitchen. “What else?”

“Well Goten wanted to go to this place called,” he paused, thinking “ _Laserquest.”_

Chichi pursed her lips, knowing what Laserquest was from previous expeditions with the Briefs. “Did you like it?”

“No,” Piccolo grumbled. “I  _hated_ it.”

“You can’t have been very good then,” Chichi giggled, eliciting a growl from her husband. “Am I right?”

“Right on the head,” Piccolo mumbled, frowning. “How the hell am I supposed to know how to work a gun, though?”

“Fair enough,” Chichi tittered “you are a technophobic alien with poor eyesight. I can’t have imagined it was your thing. Did the boys have fun though?”

Piccolo’s scowl eased. “Yeah, they did. Suri won, y’know,” he sniggered, bouncing the sleeping boy lightly on his knee. “He’s too damn quick, apparently. Even if he  _is_ all chub.”

Chichi shook her head, smiling. “And then you went shopping?”

“Yeah. They insisted, even if I’ve said time and time again how much I hate it. So all in all, this was the worst Father’s Day ever.”

She knew he didn’t mean a word of that, from his light tone and glimmering eyes. Chichi padded over to him and kissed his head. “Well I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” She relinquished Suri from Piccolo’s lap. “Let me go put this one down for bed and I’ll bring Lala down, huh?”

The warrior’s ears perked. “Yeah.”

After she had tucked Suri in (and arranged his teddies around him, just how he liked them) Chichi went to her daughter’s bedroom, lightly tapping on her door. “Viola? Your father’s waiting on you.”

There was a sound of rustling inside the room before Viola surfaced. She just about reached Chichi’s hip in height, and she was clad in a dainty little dress; one of the many Piccolo had bought her, and it was of course, pristine. She was just like herself in that aspect, neat and tidy in appearance and nature. Chichi smiled and held out her hand.

They trundled into the kitchen, whereupon Piccolo only regarded them with a solemn expression.

“Chichi,” the namekian said, serious “I asked for my daughter, not a beautiful warrior-princess.”

She laughed delightedly as Viola pottered towards her father, gift in hand. It was in a box, violet, wrapped with a shiny silver ribbon. Piccolo grinned and scooped the girl up into his lap. “Hey, what’s this huh? Didn’t I say you didn’t need to get me anything?”

Viola nodded.

“But you did anyway, right?”

She nodded again. Piccolo snorted.

“You’re just like your mother,” he said, taking the box and placing it on the table with one hand, holding his daughter close with the other. Carefully, he began to untie the ribbon, handing it to his daughter before removing the lid.

Inside was a mug, cushioned with lilac crepe paper. As Piccolo pulled it out, he could see the photo Viola had chosen to grace it; one of him sleeping with all four of his children cuddled against him, as well as the painted writing upon it. It was namekian, and stated “BEST PAPA EVR” (Chichi had to get Gohan to translate it for her).

Piccolo was silent for a while, stroking the paint with a thumb. His expression was stoic, eyes unreadable. Chichi approached him, concerned. “Piccolo?”

“I’m fine.” His voice was steady, but Chichi could detect the faintest quiver of emotion underneath the baritone. He enveloped his daughter in both arms, murmuring softly in namekian whilst holding her tightly to his chest.

Chichi giggled. “Are you getting all misty-eyed on us?”

“No,” Piccolo retorted, reaching out for his wife.  _“I just have something in my eye.”_

The mother laughed as she was pulled down into the embrace, the three of them together.


	7. Our girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piccolo and Chichi are worried about their daughter, Viola.
> 
> TW: Gender dysphoria, discussions of body parts, body image issues, transphobia perhaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Viola is my fc, a namekian that was born and raised on earth. I headcanon that namekians are intersex, and thus have two sets of sex organs. Due to this, and also the fact Namekians generally develop 'masculine' traits, she does suffer from Gender Dysphoria. This chapter is centered around that and how Piccolo and Chichi handle this knowledge. 
> 
> I will add that I regard Viola's dysphoria to be partly mental and partly caused by the gender-fixated society she's grown up within. It's a complicated subject, and one I make absolutely no claim to have any expertise on. If anyone [especially trans or any non-cis ppl in general] has any tips about how to portray this subject better I would greatly appreciate it.

“I’m worried about her.”

Chichi looked up at her husband, who leaned against the kitchen worktop. His casual countenance was betrayed by the worry in his eyes. It wasn’t often that Piccolo was concerned enough about anything to show it, never mind talk about it, so when he did it was usually serious.

As it was, Chichi knew what was on his mind. After placing lids over the pots of rice she was preparing, she turned to face him.

“I know, baby,” she sighed, wiping back beads of sweat from her forehead, raking back her fringe. It gave her a rather frazzled appearance, appropriate given that’s how she felt. Raising two half-saiyans and a namekian endowed Chichi with more parental experience than many would have, but she still felt as clueless as ever when it came to certain things – in particular, their daughter.

It wasn’t that Viola was a difficult child – far from it. Viola was probably the most sensible and straightforward out of all Chichi’s children, yet she possessed attributes that reminded her of them all. Her attitude towards studying paralleled Gohan’s, her sensitive nature was akin to Goten’s, she was just as ambitious as Suri and she had her father’s dry wit. Just like Chichi was as a child, though, Viola was shy to a fault. She was insecure, more so than she had ever been; and it seemed to manifest more now that she was becoming a teenager. Viola’s preoccupation with her appearance went far beyond adolescent narcissism. It wasn’t just a case of feeling insecure about how she looked, not anymore.

Sensing her train of thought, Piccolo growled quietly and looked away. “I don’t-” he pursed his lips. “I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do.”

Neither of them did. Both of them had tried to reassure Viola that she looked just fine, but that seemed to backfire more than anything else. At first, they had just presumed she felt uncomfortable with her growing, developing body, as teens normally did, but it soon became apparent that the issue ran far deeper than that.

Chichi put her hand on Piccolo’s bicep. “There isn’t a guidebook,” she said softly, inching closer and leaning upon him. “If there was, our lives would be a lot easier.”

She heard his aggravated sigh. “But I should know. I feel what she feels, and I still can’t wrap my head around it for the life of me!”

“You hear her thoughts, right?”

Piccolo hesitated. “Not anymore. She’s learned to close herself off to me. Kid’s too damn smart for her own good. But she’s not so good at hiding her feelings. Every day, _every damn day_ I feel her disgust, self-loathing and I just – I just don’t understand why she feels that way.”

Chichi exhaled, a shudder coursing throughout her. She knew it was as hard for Piccolo to talk about it as it was for her to listen to it, but she still wanted to tell him to stop all the same.

“Of course we wouldn’t understand,” she said, drawing away enough to look her husband in the eye. A sad smile curved her lips. “We’re her parents. We’re _supposed_ to think she’s perfect as she is.”

A wince flashed across Piccolo’s face. “If she disliked what she looked like because she’s an alien then I’d understand,” he muttered, leaning against the wall. His dark eyes stared off into the distance, as if searching for the answer there. “‘Cuz I’ve felt that I don’t know how many times.”

As far as Chichi understood, Viola’s dysphoria _was_ partly down to her non-human heritage. Namekians, although they were intersex, generally had a very masculine presentation. Their shoulders and chests grew during adolescence to accommodate their wombs and any subsequent eggs; and although they came in a variety of sizes and shapes, Viola had already inherited her father’s height and musculature. At the tender age of thirteen she was already peaking just less than 6 feet in height.

“But it isn’t just down to that,” Chichi piped up, taking Piccolo’s hand. Her eyes gazed into his. “She likes being namekian, she’s said so herself.”

Piccolo’s shoulders slumped, and he sighed. “I guess,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, she wouldn’t wish for a human form even when we offered the dragonballs – not that I blame her, I mean,” he gestured “no offence, but human bodies are weak. And your hearing is shit.”

“Thanks,” Chichi remarked, pleased when she elicited the smallest of smirks from her husband. “So obviously she likes herself enough not to change herself entirely. Isn’t that a good thing?”

The namekian frowned and looked away once more. “Yeah, I guess. Still, I wish we could do something for her. Y’know, aside from threatening her teachers when they misgender her.”

“That was you that did that,” Chichi retorted, crossing her arms.

“So you didn’t throw my principal into the nearest landfill that one time, then?”

Both their heads whipped towards the door, where their daughter stood.

“Viola – you’re home early!” Chichi glanced at the clock, feeling uneasy. “Too early. What happened?”

The girl flicked her hair, levelling her gaze with her mother’s. “Suri got into a fight again.”

“Of course he did,” Piccolo muttered, rubbing his temples in a display of exasperation. Viola chewed her lip, nerves breaking through her cool demeanour.

“It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

“What? No-” the warrior shook his head, walking over to his youngest child. “No, I didn’t mean it that way. It was me that told him to beat anyone up if they said anything, but he could at least be sneakier about it!”

“Piccolo!”

Viola’s lips twitched as she averted her gaze, trying and failing to hide her amusement.

“Oh—just _go_ and get him already!” Chichi huffed, making a show of shooing Piccolo out the house, who was grinning all the while. She wasn’t really angry at him; she already knew Piccolo would encourage Suri to stick up for his little sister. However, he had never admitted to allowing him to use physical violence to get his point across! Still…it wasn’t as if Suri would listen even if they _both_ discouraged him from getting involved.

Once he had left, Chichi turned her attention back to Viola. She strode over to the girl, who looked at her with a kind of nervous expectancy.

“Don’t yell at him too much, please,” Viola whispered. “It’s my fault, not his.”

“It’s not _your_ fault, _or_ your brother’s, although he should know better than to raise a hand to anyone – I’d rather it’d be him than you. He is leaving school soon, after all.” The mother sighed and took her child’s hands, giving them a firm squeeze. Despite her daughter’s outward calm, she could see the purplish marks around her eyes where she had rubbed away tears; the marks on her lower lip where she had bit down to stifle her sobs. “Have you got any homework?”

Viola’s ears flicked, her anxious expression smoothing out. “Um…I have some revision to do, but asides from that, no…”

“Well, since you’re home early you might as well work on that. I’ll make you some dinner in the meantime.”

-

Chichi padded up the stairs that led to her daughter’s bedroom, a tray in hand. She smiled as she approached the door, hearing the melodic trill and lilt of piano music from inside.

“Viola?” she called out, not wanting to frighten her girl by barging into her bedroom. “I have your dinner – _beef chow fun_ and _siu mai._ ”

As she expected, it wasn’t long until Viola answered, pulling the door open to greet her mother. She inclined her head in a polite bow before taking the tray. “Thank you. Um, would you like to come in?”

“Okay.” Stepping into the bedroom and shutting the door behind her, Chichi allowed herself a moment to admire the pristine state of Viola’s bedroom – her walls were decorated in pastel lilac wallpaper, decorated with intrinsic gold patterns. Her bed took pride of place in the middle of the room, a four poster bed made from carved black wood. Gauzy lilac curtains hung from the wooden rails, emphasizing the lacy quilts that personified girlish innocence. And everything was so _neat –_ books were organised in alphabetical order on the shelves, her study materials were ordered as per subject on her desk and candy-coloured perfume bottles were arranged artfully on her dressing table.

“I wish I had this kind of bedroom when I was your age,” Chichi sighed, clasping her hands together. “When I grew older, I wanted to make sure my kids would have everything I didn’t – _especially_ if I had a little girl.” She cast her affectionate gaze onto Viola, who was now sitting at a small table in the middle of her room. It was the same one Piccolo had made for her so many years ago, when she wanted to play tea parties with him.

Viola gazed pensively down at her food. “When did you know that I was a girl – or, wanted to be a girl, rather?”

Chichi paused, taking a moment to contemplate the question. Then she joined her daughter at the table, sitting opposite her.

“Well, I think we kept on referring to you with masculine pronouns – like your brother – until you began to object. That was when you were around three,” Chichi recalled. “I think that was when you began understanding gender and…what’s expected from certain genders, by society.”

“As far as I know, Namekians don’t have the concept of gender – but they use masculine pronouns, in the Common Tongue, for simplicity,” she explained. “In their own language there is only one set of pronouns, gender-neutral ones, am I right?”

Viola nodded.

“Right. So, when you began to associate the pronouns we used for you with what you _understood_ them to be associated with…with the type of role you would be expected to fulfil using them, that was when you wanted to be referred to as female. I think.”

Viola’s shoulders slumped, and she sighed. “Yes.”

“But…honey,” Chichi leaned forward, taking her daughter’s hand. “It doesn’t _matter_ what society expects of you, you know that, right? You have every right to express yourself however you like, no matter what you identify as.”

She nodded again, but her eyes slid down to her food, listless. “It’s not just that though,” she muttered, poking the noodles on her plate. “Everytime I’m referred to as a boy, I’m reminded of all the things I _hate_ about myself – about my body.”

Chichi’s fingers curled around Viola’s. “Is there any particular reason for that? For you…not liking those parts?”

“I feel like they don’t match up with how I think myself to be. When I think of myself, I’m happy, until I think of _those_ parts and then the image I have of myself just…” she made a hand motion “goes to mush. I can’t explain it very well, but it’s like being in a different body once I realise they’re there. So I try not to think about them too much.”

“So what about the rest of you?”

Viola shrugged. “I like being namekian, I wouldn’t change that. I like my hair, my bone structure, my eyes…I like how I don’t get spots or scars, I like how my nails grow nice and strong, I like my teeth and my body - for the _most_ part. But…” she bit her lip “I don’t want to grow taller or rather, _broader,_ like Father is, or I’ll just be reminded that I look more like a boy than a girl and be reminded of my boy body parts and-” she shuddered, and looked back up. Chichi’s heart clenched as she saw the turmoil within her daughter’s transparent eyes.

“And I can’t wish away _those_ body parts either, because that would mean – what if one day I want to have a baby, and I didn’t want to have one _with_ anyone else? And that wouldn’t change the fact that my body is still going to change, so really, the problem would still be there. Does that make sense?”

Chichi nodded, giving Viola’s hand another little squeeze. “Yes, honey. I…” she sighed, shaking her head. “Neither I or your father will ever fully understand how you feel, because we aren’t going through that sort of thing ourselves, but that doesn’t mean we don’t worry about you. We want you to know that we are _always_ here for you, and if there’s anything we can do, we _will_ do it.”

Viola nodded, a small sincere smile gracing her lips. “Thank you. Actually,” she bit her lip again. “There _is_ something…”

“Yes?”

“There’s a support group for trans youth, an after school thing at the health centre in town…but going means I’d have to give up supported study for physics. I’ll make up the time elsewhere though,” she added quickly, before Chichi could interject.

The mother paused, then nodded. “Okay.”

The namekian’s smile widened. “Really? Thank you.”

“Of course you can go. Your emotional wellbeing is more important than your studies. Besides,” Chichi winked “maybe you can meet more study buddies there!”

Viola tittered, a sound which was quickly drowned out by the sound of footsteps and singing.

“Ah. Looks like your brother’s home.”

Sure enough, Suri popped his head through the door, a grin plastered across his face. “Yo. I’m here to receive my due punishment. What will it be,” he sighed in mock-lament, striding into the room “fifty lashes? Ten years without tv? A hundred lines?”

“No, but you _will_ be driving your sister to the health centre after school every Thursday.”

Suri narrowed his eyes in slight suspicion. “Is that it?”

“Well it was your father who encouraged you, so technically it’s _his_ fault,” Chichi remarked, standing up and ushering the boy out the room. “Vi, honey, enjoy your food. Remember,” she turned and gave the girl a smile “I’m here if you need to talk.”

Viola nodded, brushing back her hair and smiling shyly. “Thanks.”

-

“Is it bad that I still wanna beat up the kids that say stuff to Viola, even though I know they’re just kids?”

Chichi laughed, rubbing Piccolo’s ears. “No, but remember that they’ve probably inherited that bigotry from their parents.”

“So you’re saying that I should beat up their _parents_ instead?”

“I’m not saying anything of the sort – oh _you!”_


End file.
